She had a habit of falling down
by Iseki
Summary: YuffiexVincent drabbles following some semblance of a timeline post-AC, disregarding DOC slightly. Complete.
1. On Being Caught

She had a bad habit of falling down. On the stairs, running downhill, landing a flip (or not landing as it may be), and hopping over puddles after a nights wutaian rain. For all her superior ninja skills she could not help her innate clumsiness. She was a walking(**falling**) oxymoron.

But the good thing about falling was that sometimes someone is there to catch you.

x

A/N: short first chapter I know. It serves more as an introduction than anything. Please read on, and if you enjoy it leave me a friendly review, it feeds my writing.


	2. You Always Come

He'd found her drinking as she liked to do when she wanted (no... needed..?) to feel especially grown up. She fixed him with a serious gaze and pointed her frosted mug as if to say "caught you." He wondered if she even really appreciated the taste of whatever was contained in those frosty confines, but judging by the glazing over her vision that no longer mattered. He situated himself into the seat beside her.

"Vincent."

Silence.

"Vinnie"

"..."

"I knew you would come."

He glanced her way, expression steady. This was in impossible statement of fact due to the fact that they'd been on different continents until yesterday and he refused to neither answer nor even listen to any of her messages. For reasons he had yet to find a convincing answer to.

"But I knew you would come." She repeated, although he had not said anything. The mug left her fingers and rested back upon the glass ringed bar as her head drooped towards his shoulder rather awkwardly.

"You always come."


	3. Kisses

Their first kiss had been in the dark. It was an awkward search for mouths in which cheeks, hands and necks became very much involved. When they finally found each other it was slow and chaste. He broke away first turning so that his hair tickled her nose. Nothing was said. She just curled up beside him and went to sleep rather like cat. He undoubtedly stayed up all night thinking about ghosts and sins and time she thought before drifting off. But in the morning she would convince him. She had no doubts in her own capabilities.

Their second kiss came nearly a year afterwards in the early sunrise. Convincing him had been a long and arduous process during which she went home and he disappeared. When she finally caught up with him again it was outside of Rocket Town where you could hear the old weapons shop sign creaking in the breeze. Apparently they'd both had the same idea to impose a late evening visit on Cid and Shera.

They sat in the open grass all night watching the stars blink out and her jabbering about everything he'd missed out on. She began to complain about the morning dew messing up her freshly washed shorts when he leaned in and pressed his lips ever so softly to the corner of her mouth and she wanted to punch him for taking so long.


	4. On Honeymooning

Vincent hardly managed to fit into the best of places but Costa de Sol was somewhere he'd rather believe did not exist; a smudge on the world map. There was no such luck when Yuffie decided it was the place for a honeymooning.

"Yuffie, we have no reason to be honeymooning to begin with."

"I know you are only waiting for my boobs to grow out before you are down on one knee, but a girl gets antsy!" He chose not to respond to this.

"Come on! It'll give you a chance to ogle me in my bikini! And if it's the sun you're worried about I'm sure they make an SPF 100+ these days and I'll let you use my umbrella." She brandished the ridiculous thing like a sword. It wasn't even a proper shade umbrella. Just a regular old rain umbrella embellished with sickly coloured flowers. "Besides I bet you look HAWT with a tan!"

He slumped in the slightest like a dejected child. He would not win this fight, but he would also not leave the hotel room. Yuffie could bring in all the mint ice cream she liked-he would not be swayed.


	5. The Goldfish

"This one's named Vincent. And that one's The Great Ninja Delilah." She pointed to the two shimmering goldfish in their bowl.

Vincent quirked an eyebrow, "Delilah?"

"Yes. Delilah. They have great adventures and a steamy romance."

He said nothing.

"Okay, so I don't really like the name Delilah I just thought it sounded ultra sexy."

"A sexy goldfish," He stated.

"Well I looked damn sexy the night I caught her!" she insisted. He recalled her wrinkled kimono, her decorative hairpin missing a stone, and her candy stained smile as she dragged him to every interesting booth the festival had to offer. He allowed for a rare smile and simply smoothed back a wisp of her hair and pressed a kiss to her temple while she watched her new pets circling their home.


	6. November 20th

On the day she turned 22 he left. At first she assumed it was because he forgot like a normal boyfriend might and ran off to buy her something amazing to make up for it. When she found him in _her _cave the week later she couldn't remember enough of the curses she'd learned from Cid. Her tears washed over her face and his fingers while she kicked him hard in the shin.

_Idiotidiotidiotidiot..._

He held on while she fought and struggled and tried to poke his too red eyes out for looking at her with all that emotion swimming in them. She loved those eyes she hated those eyes and she had a really clear thought to bite him on the shoulder while her knees buckled and he followed her to the rocky floor.

In the dim flicker of light filtering through a crystal coffin she stared at the collar of his shirt with puffy eyes and breathed deep her hands fisted in his hair and his in hers. Their foreheads met warm and tired.

That was the day she learned that she shared the same birthday as a dead woman.


	7. Honey and Lemon

Vincent Valentine, immortalized at the age of 27, had caught a cold. When he stirred from his bed at 3 am and had given the slightest of stuffy sighs, a nearby ninja's ears pricked. He was a gentle sleeper. Slept like the dead some might say.

_("Vinnie, couldn't you try tossing around a bit now and again, it feels like I'm sleeping with a corpse.")_

So in the morning when the early sun peeked through the silken curtains and he managed to sit up she shoved him back down and thrust a warm cup of honey and lemon into his hands.

"Drink it all." Arms crossed, looking down at him sternly. He tasted it gingerly before following orders and found that it eased his tense muscles and soothed his sore throat. Seemingly pleased with his performance she pottered away back to the kitchen and he heard the clattering of pots and pans that usually meant she was going to attempt to perfect her mothers pancake recipe again.

He would have preferred a second of the curative drinks, breathing another congested lament, but after the surprising display of motherly instincts he felt it wouldn't do to complain. Instead he shared with himself a mild curving of the lips and settled back against his pillow, committed to ingest every bite of his nurse's foul flapjacks.


	8. On Running Away

She still dreamt of running out into the forest and disappearing for days.

When she fed her cats (once when she'd managed to drag Vincent down to their house they discovered the odd trait he had of attracting them. It ended in Yuffie deciding she wanted all the attention to herself and Vincent picking at the cat-claw snags in his cape. They agreed that the job was best left to her alone) and heard the dull thrum of voices outside of so few kin and so many tourist she imagined leaping across roof tops and out into the world beyond. Vincent could tell this of course. He always knew, perhaps it was reflected in her eyes.

When she comes back kicking at the pebbles in her path and he is sat out on the veranda he snaps whatever book he's been reading shut and kisses her neck while she sits between his legs.

Like so many of their conversations she speaks and he listens, interjecting only when she says something she knows is foolish or when prompted. Once she's finished she suddenly declares hunger for some foreign dish and walks inside.

One day soon they will take a trip and see all their favourite places again, together again, possibly for the last time before taking rule of her city he now calls home.


	9. Voice Mail

11:45 am- _I'm off to Icicle Town to check up on some reports of increased monster activity, Vinnie, so I expect you to check on the cats and make sure my Dad hasn't strangled himself in his own yukata. You know what the senile old geezer is like! Anyway try not to miss me too hard while I'm gone, promise I'll bring you back a brilliant present! MUA! _**End message.**

11:57 am-_ I told you not to miss me too much, but you're silence says it all. Don't worry I'll be home in a couple of days you big sissy. _**End message.**

13:02 pm- _Oh retch…, Cid Highwind and his bloody machine can spontaneously combust as soon as this thing lands… _**End message. **

13:25 pm-_Omigawd it is so freakin cold I could cut glass if I just lifted my top. I know you will appreciate this sexy message while you are at home missing me so much. _**End message.**

14: 15 pm- _pffft. _**End message.**

15:00 pm- _The parka people need to be lined up for one big slap across all their faces. The "monster activity" was some dude and his followers all doing squats up on a mountain. Give me a break! Who does squats in the middle of a blizzard? Training, my arse. _**End message.**

15:05 pm- _oh he did not just pocket MY pay cheque-- _**End message.**

16:00 pm- _Remind me never to take a job in the snow again. _**End message.**


	10. Reflection

He knew from the sound more that the sight that she was cutting her hair again. As soon as it began to tickle her shoulders even slightly she'd have the razor out and be sawing away.

Her nose was scrunched up in concentration; she always struggled round the back so it ended up longer than the rest. Her hands deftly caught thick locks and scraped them across the blade.

When she finished she straightened, tied her bandana back across her forehead and grinned her child grin. In the mirror she saw a pair of stormy eyes just like her fathers (a fact she was proud of despite what she might say) and a heroine's smile. He saw a woman with such a mix of young and old flowing in and out of her features that he had to look away.


	11. Night

When the lights go out they are the most vulnerable. She might pretend she could see in the dark any of her enemies and slice them down with a single blow. He might pretend that he belongs to the dark, stained in blood and harbouring fallen evils within. But when night truly comes, together, they are neither brave nor disgraced. They are something akin to fear as they cling and claw at each other. She thinks that perhaps this is what heightens the passion. He knows that the reason is the flimsy boundary they both stand on. In daylight it is ignored and they play their friendly games of housemates, lovers, husband and wife, the ninja and the gunslinger.

"_Vinnie, you've got cream on your nose!"_

"…_and you've got cappuccino mix down your shorts."_

His hand is urgent, his claw is tender, her voice is desperate, and her hair is in a knot. He finds himself in the cradle of her legs and she basks in the heat of his body. The darkness exposes their fear and they hide from it surrounded by each other.


	12. Photo Shoot

"Vincent, smiiiiillllleeee…" The camera faltered as he turned just so that she couldn't tell whether he'd obeyed her directions or not. Bastard.

"I will not be objectified."

"Oh come on, the drama with you! I haven't got you prancing around in tighty whities, it's just a t-shirt."

"I would never choose this style."

"Then you should learn to place your bets a bit more cautiously."

"…" He stared and she flashed the disposable camera at him with a loud click.

"You rigged that darts match."

"And you look good with a bit of skin showing, now SMILE."


	13. On Aiming a Gun

It was during the time between kisses that she asked him to teach her how to shoot a can off a fence post _y'know like cowboys do._ First he had firmly declined. But while they'd run into each other in the forest (he wasn't that surprised that she still jumped people for materia there. Unsuccessfully most of the time, he might add, but she had created a name for herself in some places) and she'd complained of boredom so great her shurikens were sure to rust and her mind to wander ungracefully, he complied.

She'd set up their targets on a fallen log and was bouncing with trepidation. He freed his gun from its holster, and was slowly counting the bullets as he loaded it.

When he beckoned her around and handed her the pistol butt first she took it in her hands fluidly, giving it a spin on her finger. She dropped it of course, but this was forgiven when she scrambled to pick it up and dust away the moss and dirt with the edge of her shirt. She took aim with one eye closed, the appearance of a professional, and took a shot wildly off track.

His hands(**claw**) came around to cover hers and teach her about lining up the sights and together they shattered an old bottle. She was warm and he had trouble letting go.

"Help me get the next one." She'd thought the very same.


	14. Too Much

In the filtered daylight from the fluttering curtains her skin becomes a map. Delicate golden claws trace scars and lines he knows best. She is a heavy sleeper for a full-blood ninja, her eyelashes barely flutter against the light; she dreams on. The quiet solemnity of the morning leaves him with mixed feelings of contentment and anxiety. Some day he knows the lines will grow deeper, the sleep longer, and the girl older.

It was hardly a decision, that answer, in a moment of weakness the night before when she asked shakily over the noise of the kettle boiling

"Will it always be like this?"

Yes, always. When your mind stretches and your habitual falls become even more frequent and your children visit every Sunday. Always, I will stay.

She'd laughed too loud and awkward to break the gravity of the conversation, and the kettle boiled over too full. They both bent to mop up the water, and she purposely brushed her knuckles against his again and again like one preteen courting another.

He finds a scar along her hip bone; skin browned from the sun, and presses a kiss to it. This does wake her. With a stretch of her arms over her head and an easy smile, she says

"Good morning sunshine."


	15. Grief part One

She lights incense. She presses her palms together. She rests on her knees for hours until the numbness and ache creeps into them. Until she knows that she can stand it no longer, and slowly stoops to cry.

He does not attend her. Does not check on her, despite the fretful quickness in his belly, while she prays. She wears white but she wanders the house for weeks draped in black. Never has he wanted to support her more than now when he can do nothing.

She sleeps in a chair, nodding and waking through the night hoping for something that will not come and he cannot comfort her. He cannot even bring himself to rest a hand on her shoulder. It becomes another sin.

Leviathan watches, Godo sleeps eternal, and The White Rose of Wutai takes her place on the throne.


	16. Grief part Two

He tries to reach her; reach for her, while her back is turned and is met with that word.

"No, Vincent. No." Cold and unmoving. Her new voice is nothing that he knows. He wishes to hear her old voice full of spring strawberry sweetness and fox-like cunning but she watches the autumn colors scatter and hears nothing.

There are festivals and births, and he tries, how he tries; with flowers and words.

"_The Aster was said to ward off evil if you were to burn its leaves." _She touches the petals delicately. He recalls another symbolization of the bloom: patience.

There are many meetings and many guests to be seen. She still dons the white ribbons of mourning, and sees only who she must. He is shut behind sliding closed doors and despises the way he has become the child. Asters decorate the room.


	17. Old Dream

She brings him scraps of red material she finds. some are torn from fresh curtains unwilling to part with it so that she had to get a pair of scissors to do the deal. she could make him a pillow case out of them all if only she knew how to sew. There's that feeling again; that wish that she were more like Tifa _no more like Aeris. but it's too sad to wish you were like a dead flower girl. Their dead flower princess, who has an alter in the back of everyone's mind covered in petals and ribbons and steel.  
_

The room is dark. He is still like a corpse, his eyes stare at the ceiling. She is nine, and in love for the first time, and so scared. She brings him water and bread instead thinking that he must eat and he lets her feed him but the water dribbles past the corners of his mouth like tiny rivers disappearing into his collar. Sure to be uncomfortable, so she replaces his head and wipes them up. When she finishes she looks back to his face and his eyes are on her burning her. There is a sudden image of his body falling to peices and turning to dust and she is 22 again when her mouth presses to his collar bone and her teeth graze it hoping to illicit some kind of noise or plea or

"Yuffie, stop."

He pushes her away with strength that his 27-year old body has been capable of all along and all she can think is _bastard._


	18. Green Wedding

It's the day she calls the wedding, although there are so many rules against it. (And Vincent's rules too but those are less important because she's good at breaking those too) So, she tells Shake, she will make illegitimate heirs if they will not accept it. She will make an heir either way. She longs for a tiny black haired creature to hold to her breast and to call her mama and to stay with her when _his _eyes look far away in the past, hand cradling his cup so that it wont drop, and he momentarily forgets what they have and regrets the world. When he returns to the present she can say all the miraculous things that babies are good at "he took his first step, he did a fart, he did a back flip as high as your head and told me how stupid Daddy is, he solved world hunger with a look. See, he just did it again."

She has lain a blanket across a path of fallen leaves which are still soft and not yet crunchy and bothersome. There is a cabin across the way, it was one of her mother and fathers indulgences and now it is theirs. But the idea of the bed with the same mattress there all these years is so gross that she's decided here out under the canopy of trees and dull sunlight is much more romantic. She's hidden all of her white clothing, unwashed and full of memory in a storage space far from their room. So in the traditional sense there is not even a wedding dress to accompany the event. Instead she wears green, a green light enough that it might be yellow through a dirty glass. Her skin is tanned from the summer passed and her hair is in a long strand down her neck. Untouched since the mourning period a year ago. She thinks it makes her look more her age as well.

Vincent comes bearing sake and books and the basket she packed with food the day before. She greets him with arms spread _tada_, and he sets the things gently on the blanket where she would have dumped them gracelessly. Their hands slip together coolly and there is a metal-sound when ring meets ring briefly. The sky has become overcast but goes unnoticed as they greet each other with a soft kiss. The forest is their witness, the vows are passed unsaid, and the checked blanket becomes the marriage bed.


	19. On Sometimes

Sometimes she grabs handfuls of his hair and pulls gently so like 17 with mischief creasing her eyes. Sometimes she spreads it black across the white pillow to lie on; a painful pulling closeness. Sometimes she follows him from room to room shouting incandescently until he can no longer listen. Sometimes she demands him right there on the steps, clumsy and rough, making them smile at each other in the fight for seriousness. Sometimes she falls and wails half heartedly at her inelegance. And fighting the dread he chides her as well.

Sometimes he sleeps all day. Sometimes he plays out old conversations in his head ignoring the new ones. Sometimes he runs a finger up her spine while she is busy and says the three little words that thrill her. Never ceasing to surprise and humble her a little but she'll laugh and reply

"Don't you forget it Vincent Valentine" and kisses him deeply like a secret.

~fin~

A/N: Thank you to all of my readers and lovely reviewers. I really did not want to end this and I'm not sure how this will satisfy, but with Green Wedding already laid down there wasn't much left to say without travelling into the rather depressing matter of age and separation which I thoroughly decided against. I'm happy with this, and it will definitely not be the last time that I write Yuffie and Vincent. Thank you again, you have been wonderful.


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